Indoctrination
by LuminiaAravis
Summary: Kaja, a spoiled Nord who grew up in Cyrodiil, decides to move back to her ancestral homeland. When she tries to cross the border, she is captured by the Empire. With the help of an unlikely new family, she's learning what it means to be a true Nord.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, everyone! It's been a long, long time since I've published, huh? But I'm glad to be back, and I'm so grateful for everyone who read and supported me over the last few months.**

**Recently, I've gone through some changes. I was struggling to keep the creativity alive inside me, despite outside pressures in my life. I'm in a new living situation now, and I'm starting to get back in touch with myself. **

**Even though I'm free to do whatever I want now, basically, I have a lot of adult responsibility now. I have to pay for groceries, clothes, rent, and a lot of the other things that you take for granted when you're a kid. I'm also working for the first time in my life, which is both agonizing and rewarding.**

**This story has been a long time coming, and I think the fact that I've gotten it down on paper has helped me express myself, and to help me grow into my new shoes, as it were. Hopefully, I'll learn to live successfully on my own, and I'll learn to write again.**

**That being said, ****_yes_****, it starts right after Helgen. Original, I know. But even though it starts slow, it gets better and more original down the line. I'm also fairly new to the Skyrim/Elder Scrolls fandom, so please forgive me if I get some of the lore wrong. I did try to do my research.**

**So, please enjoy my newest work, and what may prove to be my comeback, "Indoctrination."**

* * *

The rumbling had stopped. I guess I had been so panicked, that I hadn't even noticed how far away from Helgen we'd come. I took a deep breath through my nose, the crisp, dry air filling me. It smelled good. No hint of mud or rust or rotten wood.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He sat on a rock next to a faded signpost, breathing heavily.

"I think so," I answered. "I bet I'm better than you."

"Pff," he replied, waving my comment away. "I'm perfectly fine. Just a few scratches." His blue tunic fluttered in the light breeze. He ran his callused fingers through his dirty-blond hair, ruffling out dirt and dust, and two or three leaves. He scratched his beard, too, trying to get some of the excess grime out with his fingernails. "I can imagine I don't look too pretty, though."

"Don't worry about it," I said.

"I wanted to apologize for getting you mixed up in all of this," he began. "The Imperials shouldn't have been near Helgen. And if the Stormcloaks hadn't been there, you wouldn't have had any trouble. They would've let you go on your way."

"You mean they arrested me just because I'm a Nord?"

"You were in the wrong place at the wrong time to begin with," he said. "The yellow hair probably didn't help, though."

I tugged compulsively at a small braid on my head, running the tip through my fingers. "I don't understand. They had no right to execute any of you without a trial. Especially Ulfric Stormcloak. He's a Jarl, isn't he?"

"The Jarl of Windhelm, yes," he replied. "You must be new around here, kinsman. I don't think I've ever heard of a Stormcloak getting a trial at all. It wouldn't matter if he was a Jarl or not."

"But that's just not fair! I mean, you're all citizens of the Empire, you have rights just like everyone else. If this had happened in Cyrodiil, Tullius would never have gotten away with it! He'd be demoted at the very least, and you'd all get pardons."

"You've been to Cyrodiil, then?"

I sat down gingerly on the rock next to him. "I was born here, but I grew up in the Imperial City."

"Oh, so you're a city girl," he jibed. "That explains it."

"What, it explains that I expect to be treated like a civilized person?"

"No, no. It explains why you thought that the law meant anything up here."

"You know, I'd always thought that the Stormcloaks were crazy and dangerous. You seemed like a real threat. But the way they figure it in Cyrodiil, you're just an extremist group who doesn't speak for the rest of the population."

He stroked his whiskers. "Well, I wouldn't say that. Nobody's arguing that there aren't people who'd rather stay under the Empire, but you'd be surprised at how many of us want to secede. It's just hard to find people who will give up basically everything, with the promise of very little in return. In the way of material compensation, that is."

"So you're losing."

"Not by a long shot!" he exclaimed. "Just because we're short of men doesn't mean we can't hit the Empire where it hurts."

We sat silently for a moment. The sun was starting to slip below the mountains. "Looks like we'd better get going," he said. He got up slowly, grimacing as his knees took his whole weight. "Bad knees," he explained. He consulted the signpost for a moment. "Just making sure. Listen, we're about three hours away from my hometown, Riverwood. If we start now, we can get there before it gets too cold. My sister, Gerdur, can put us up for the night."

"Do you think we'll be followed?" I asked, standing up myself.

"By Tullius? Not a chance. They've got more than enough trouble back there. He'll be sorted for _weeks_."

I smiled in spite of myself. "Sure, let's go to Riverwood."

"Right. Oh, in case you didn't catch it earlier - and I wouldn't blame you if you weren't listening - my name's Ralof." He extended a grubby hand.

I took it with my own, just as grubby. "Kaja."

* * *

**More and longer chapters to be posted, one daily until the story is complete. Thank-you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank-you so much for slogging through part 1 of my story. Here's part 2. I hope it's a little more interesting, and I really hope you like Kaja. Please enjoy.**

* * *

Ralof and I made good time to Riverwood. It took us about two and a half hours, and though it was dark by the time we got there, it was a clear night with a waxing moon, so we didn't have too much trouble getting there. The Stormcloak mail got progressively colder with the air, and it made me shiver when it jingled against my arms and thighs. I had taken the ill-fitting boots off and left them at the side of the road miles ago, along with the rusty ax and helmet.

The broad, stone archway that stood over the main road was lit up with torches, and as we walked into the light, a woman shouted, "Ralof! Hod, he's here! He made it!" I heard her stomping down wooden stairs, and then jogging over loose stones towards us. She dropped her torch and threw her arms around Ralof's neck. He all but collapsed under her.

"How did you know I was coming?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hadvar got here first," she explained. "He told us everything. We thought you didn't make it - you stupid thing! You didn't think to steal a horse?"

"Gerdur, we're fine," he assured her, patting her back awkwardly. He looked towards me. "This is my friend, Kaja. The Imperials picked her up on the way to Helgen and threw her in with the rest of us."

Gerdur let go of her brother and gently took me by the hand. "You poor thing, did they hurt you?"

"No," I answered, "I'm fine. Ralof was very kind, he kept me safe the whole way home," I said. "You should probably help him first. He's been out and about longer than I have."

"Don't worry about a thing," Gerdur insisted. A bulky man, slightly taller than Ralof, jogged down the main road.I guessed - and later I learned that I had guessed correctly - that it was Hod, Gerdur's husband. He wrapped a thin wool blanket around his brother-in-law's shoulders and led him to a warmly lit cabin near the river. Gerdur and I followed.

There was already a gorgeous fire burning inside, with a hot kettle of stew simmering over it. Near the fire sat a man dressed in a red cotton Imperial tunic. It only took me a moment to recognize him as the man at Helgen who had read names off the list.

I jumped. "You're making a mistake!" I shouted. "He's an Imperial! He was at Helgen, he tried to kill us!" I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, which just happened to be a wooden spoon, and brandished it at the Imperial. "Stay back! He's come to finish the job!"

He chuckled. "Easy, lass. What'll you do, ladle me to death?"

"Kaja, it's alright!" Ralof interjected. "We know he was at Helgen. This is my friend, Hadvar. We grew up together. He's welcome here." Ralof looked up at me from his spot on the floor near the hearth, holding a bowl of soup between his rough hands.

"Sorry, we should've warned you," said Hod. "It is quite a sight to see, isn't it? A Stormcloak and a legionnaire breaking bread together - literally."

"But," I stammered, dropping the spoon to my side, "he tried to kill you."

Ralof's smile drooped a little bit. "I know," he said. "This isn't the first time we've had that problem. It's complicated."

I couldn't resist the fireplace anymore. I relaxed and put the spoon back, then made my way through the cozily crowded house to stand at Ralof's side near the fire. I wriggled out of the Stormcloak armor and stood with my backside to the fire. "Nice skivvies," Hod remarked, earning him a slap on the back of the head from Gerdur.

"I _had_ clothes," I rebutted, shooting a cold look at Hadvar.

"Kaja, please," Ralof said. "You can't treat him that way."

"No?" I protested. "Because last time I checked, friends don't try to execute each other."

Ralof sighed. "I am sorry, old friend," he said to Hadvar. "Believe me when I say that I don't blame you."

Hadvar leaned back in his chair. "I should be the one apologizing," he replied.

"Kaja, when Hadvar joined the Legion four years ago, we made a deal," Ralof said. "When either of us is in uniform, it's strictly business. Nothing personal."

I hugged myself tightly and turned to face the fire. "How can either of you live like that?"

Hadvar answered. "It's not easy, but it would be even harder losing my best friend."

Ralof slowly flexed his knees and got up off the floor, shuffling to the kitchen. "I was saving this for a special occasion," he said, holding up a dusty bottle of what appeared to be mead. "But with things going the way they are, I'd have it sooner rather than later. I always had in mind that you would be there when I opened it. I don't want that vision to fade away," he said, offering the bottle to Hadvar.

Hadvar took it solemnly and pulled the cork. He waved the bottle gently under his nose and inhaled. "It's divine."

"It's supposed to be at least one hundred years old," Ralof bragged. Hod brought out five small glasses from the kitchen and gave one to each of us.

I took mine a little reluctantly. "We just met," I explained. "I'd understand if you didn't want to share with me. I'm not all that special."

"No, no, I insist," Hadvar said, rising from his chair. "You've had a rough day. You deserve it."

Ralof took the bottle back and poured us each half a glass. Then he raised his portion high in the air. "No matter what happens, the victorious dead will meet again in Sovngarde."

"Hear hear!" we said, and we threw back our mead. I could feel mine flow down my throat, volatile, but not violent. The moment it hit my stomach, my guts started to growl. Quite a reminder of how hungry I was.

By the look on Hadvar's and Ralof's faces, something similar had just happened to them. Gerdur seemed quick on the uptake. "Well, no point in a toast without a good meal to follow it," she said, and shooed us away from the fireplace. She grabbed the Wooden Spoon of Revenge and started to fuss over the vegetable stew.

"Kaja, you'd probably fit into one of Gerdur's gowns," Hod said, offering me a pile of mismatched clothes. They felt coarse and heavy to me as I took them from his outstretched arms. I frowned. Life in Skyrim would be a little different from what I remembered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much for the support, everyone! One thing I have to ask, though. Would you rather have me publish the rest of the story in chapters (this is 3 or 9), or all at once? The whole thing is finished, I just thought it would be good to publish it in chapters because that would help keep the interest in it going, but then I thought that if it were ****_me_**** reading it, I'd be annoyed and want to finish the story all in one go. So, as my dear readers, you can decide.**

**With that, please enjoy!**

* * *

I pulled the curtains that divided the bedroom from the rest of the house shut. Then I took my underclothes off slowly, almost ponderously, and moved to stand just short of the window. The cool air seeping between the rough-cut panes felt good after the heat of fire and humidity of human company.

The glass panes in the window were of uneven thickness and grain. None of them was entirely transparent. They made the outside world look like it was underwater. The main street was wavy and dark as torches from across the road flickered in the night.

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. This was considered a town? In Cyrodiil, it wouldn't even merit a mark on the map. It would have been less than a hamlet, not worth making signposts for. It might not even have warranted a name.

I gripped the windowsill tightly, the rough wood pricking my palms and wriggling under my fingernails. I looked down at my hands. They were _filthy_. Dry and chapped, covered in small anonymous scratches, my nails jagged and full of dirt. And I'd only been there a day.

I pulled on Gerdur's dress. It was horrid, made of rough, scratchy wool. The shift beneath it was a failed attempt at white, the bodice was forest green, and the skirt was a faded burnt orange. I couldn't help but let a few tears fall as I slipped her thin leather shoes on. I had a bad feeling that they would only make the blisters on my feet worse.

To my horror, there was nothing that even remotely resembled a hairbrush in sight. Nor was there a mirror. I threw myself on Gerdur's bed and huddled up against the wall, burying my face in my knees.

Someone rapped gently at the door frame outside the bedroom. "Kaja, are you alright?" I recognized Ralof's voice.

Quickly wiping my eyes on my sleeve, I took a deep breath and tried to say, "Yes, I'm fine," but it came out as more of a strained gurgle.

Ralof slowly pulled the curtain aside, letting the firelight flood the small bedroom. "Kaja?" I tried to straighten up and scooched to the edge of the bed, putting my feet back on the floor.

"Mm?" was all I could manage. But it was still obvious that I had been crying.

"Kaja, what's the matter?" Ralof asked.

"Nothing," I squeaked. "I'm fine, I just bit my tongue by accident."

Ralof sat down gently on the bed next to me. "I might be just a common soldier, but I do know when a girl's had her feelings hurt."

"It's not fair!" I pouted. "I mean, you've been so nice to me and saved my life and gave me dinner and everything but I - I - " I hiccupped. "I want to go home."

Ralof stroked his beard mechanically. "I think I know just the thing to help," he said. "Follow me." He started to go back into the kitchen, but I must have made a noise because he turned around. "No, you don't want them to see you like this. I have an idea."

He strode over to the window and undid the latch, and started to jiggle the lower frame open. Once it was about three-quarters of the way done, he ducked through so he was sitting on the ledge, legs dangling out, and dropped down to the street below. He offered up a hand. "I'll catch you," he said, smiling warmly.

I followed him, swinging both legs out the window, and slid down next to him. True to his word, he caught my upper arms and lowered me to the ground. He set off towards the town's walls, beckoning for me to follow. "The cold air will get rid of the redness around your eyes," he said. "They won't know you were crying."

I managed to chuckle at that, even though the small laugh got stuck in my nose and didn't come out all the way. Ralof led me to a spot behind Gerdur's house where the wall had fallen halfway, and picked his way up the pile of stones that had tumbled to the ground there. He hopped over the wall and caught me again when I followed his lead. "Watch your step," he advised. "You could trip in the dark. It's happened to me plenty of times."

We clambered up a small hill together, and stopped at the crest. No trees grew at the rocky top of the hill, so the view down was incredible. With Riverwood behind us, we could see for miles and miles in the clear, starry nighttime. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" To my relief, my voice had gone back to normal.

"More or less," he said. "I don't know, going for a walk always helps me calm down when I'm upset."

"But you seem so easy-going."

"Well then, I guess my cure works!" I couldn't help but giggle. "See? What did I tell you?"

The sky burst open. Hundreds of streams of winter light darted across the sky, shining blue and green and gold over the land. I have no idea how to describe it, my first time seeing the Northern Lights.

Ralof stared up at the sky, a look of utter peace upon his face. "This is part of what we live for up here," he said. "It's not an easy life, but the land provides."

I stared at my shoes. They were a lot more comfortable than I had predicted. And Gerdur's didn't feel as itchy as I had originally thought, either. In fact, I was glad that it was wool instead of cotton. Cotton wouldn't have blocked the light breeze blowing around us.

"Ralof, I'm sorry for losing my, uh, composure back there. I had no right to cry - you've never been anything but nice to me. And Gerdur and Hod are so generous, and I'm sorry that I insulted Hadvar like that. He must feel awful. If I'd known, I wouldn't have brought it up. You must have been having a really nice meal, too. I'm an idiot for interrupting."

"It's alright," he said. "And I don't mean to be dense, but I actually have no idea what you were crying about." I raised my eyebrow. "But I made you feel better, didn't I?"

"I suppose you did," I admitted. "You're good at that."

"It's a gift," he shrugged.

"No need to be modest," I said jokingly.

"But seriously, what was the matter?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I guess I just had a rough day. You know, I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed and wearing my own nightgown and writing in my diary, like I do every night. It didn't occur to me that I might never get to do those things again. The Legion took everything I had - the deed to my new house, my savings, my supplies - I'm a nobody. And the _nerve_ of those Imperials for arresting me in the first place!"

Ralof's face fell. "You said you want to go home."

"Of course I do! The Empire has effectively taken everything from me! How am I supposed to go on like this? What'll I do for food and shelter? What'll I do for work? How can they expect me to live this way? I mean, I don't even really care where I settle down, I just want a nice pair of clothes, a hot meal, and a good night's sleep! But I suppose that's too much to ask!"

"Are you saying that what my sister has offered you isn't good enough?" Ralof asked. But something was going on - his expression of incredulity didn't quite reach his eyes.

I curled my hands into fists. "No, no, it's not that, it's just that - rrgh! I shouldn't have to rely on your sister to get by. But I'd kill for a plate of sweet rolls and a hot bath. I don't understand why crossing the border into Skyrim had made that so difficult."

"You _are_ quite the spoiled little princess."

"You don't understand," I said exasperatedly. "If it weren't for the Imperials, I'd be in Whiterun by now, safe and sound. But because I'm a Nord, everything's - backwards."

"Would you sell out for a chance to go home?" Ralof asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Would you sell out for a chance to go home."

"Sell out?"

"Kaja, that feeling of betrayal, that anger, that's what Nords face every day under the Empire. No amount of sweet rolls or silk or hot baths is worth taking that humiliation lying down."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. "You wanted me to come to that conclusion all along," I stated.

"We all come to that point sooner or later," he said, all traces of disappointment or anger gone from him. "I'm just sorry to say that most of us get there after it's too late, after the Empire has hurt us in some way. I didn't want to take that chance with you."

"Quite the devil's advocate, you are," I said. I wasn't sure if I should grin or punch his lights out.

"Again, it's a talent," he said. "I promise I won't do it again. I just wanted to show you, just this once, what Skyrim is like through my eyes. Through Stormcloak eyes."

"But the Empire didn't discriminate against the Nords until you started the war."

"That's not true," he replied. "The White-Gold Concordat, signed by Emperor Titus Mede the Second, is a blow against all Nords. The fact that the worship of Talos is now illegal is reason enough to start a war. If we don't do something, either the Empire or the Thalmor will crush Skyrim down. And I won't let that happen."

"Doesn't that seem a bit extreme?"

"Open your eyes!" Ralof shouted. I took a step back. I had never expected him to lose his temper. "I'm sorry, but, I won't let Skyrim end up like Hammerfell. It's not. Going. To happen."

I could've been wrong, but I thought I heard a dragon roar in the distance.


	4. Chapter 4

It might have been a far cry from a real hot bath like I'd wanted, but scalding hot dishwater and the stark smell of lye soap was sort of...relaxing.

Hod, Ralof, and Hadvar had long since drank themselves to sleep. I had enjoyed the slurred songs about Ysgramor and dragons and feasts in Sovngarde. Not to mention that it was more than a little heartwarming to see a legionnaire and a Stormcloak toasting each other, swaying arm-in-arm.

Hod had been the smart one, relieving himself outside before flopping down in his own bed. Hadvar and Ralof were huddled before the dying fire, covered in bearskin blankets. Ralof was still wearing Hadvar's Imperial-issued helmet, and Hadvar still had the Stormcloak's trademark blue sash around his neck.

Gerdur brought another load of dishes in from the table. She smirked. "Get them drunk enough and they'll do almost anything," she said. "This is too funny."

I just smiled, flushing a little bit in the steam that rose up from the washbasin. "It's a definite improvement over last night," I joked.

Gerdur's smile faded a little. "Sometimes I'm worried that they won't come back," she murmured. "Either of them."

"Someday, neither of them will," I said, before I could censor myself. "Goodness, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Well, it's true," she said, rolling up her sleeves. "We celebrate every day the gods let us live."

The silence we shared was almost therapeutic. We just got through the dishes together, each of us lost in our thoughts. We dried our hands and sat by the fire, not quite tired enough for bed. I carefully slipped the leather helmet off Ralof's head, doing my best not to wake him up.

"He won't wake," Gerdur commented. I must have given her a quizzical look. She smirked again. "That's my brother you're fawning over. I know how he handles his mead."

I wasn't sure if it was me or the fire, but it suddenly got a lot hotter. "I'm sorry," I stammered. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Not at all," Gerdur said. "He's a handsome boy, maybe it's about time he settles down. And to be honest, I'd be glad if you two married one day down the road."

"Is that your way of giving permission?" I joked.

"Why not?" she asked casually.

I ran my fingers through his dirty blond hair, and fiddled with the loose braid on the right side of his face. His cheeks were pale, but warm, and very dry from the cold North winds outside. His beard was surprisingly soft to the touch. Facial hair was not in fashion in the Imperial City, so there had never been a time when a kindly uncle or grandfather had let me sit on his lap and play with his whiskers.

I let the hair on his chin tickle the tips of my fingers as I traced his jawline as lightly as I could. I loosened the laces on the brown tunic around his neck, and tucked the bearskin pelt around him, holding his chest and waist with my eyes.

"What about Hadvar?" I asked, adjusting the blankets on him next. "Does he have a girl?"

"I don't know," Gerdur replied. "But he's not nearly old enough to retire from the legion yet. The Stormcloaks aren't quite as organized, there's not really a retirement age. I guess nobody's been around long enough to retire from the war." She sighed. "Most of them are young. They die before they see wrinkles and white hair. But I worry too much."

"There's a war on, you have every reason to worry."

"I know, I know. And I sympathize with Ulfric's cause, but I'm scared of what will happen to us if we win, and the Empire withdraws its military support. There are already Altmer forts on the North coast. I just - I can't even say it."

"Well, I'll let you know one thing," I said. "You won't have to worry about your little brother getting in trouble."

"No?"

"I'll be able to look after him. I've decided I'm joining the Stormcloaks."

Gerdur pressed her lips together, and her hands curled into loose fists. "Are you sure you don't want to think about it?"

"I have thought about it. I've never been surer of anything in my life."

"I admire you - I believe it's the right thing to do - but the rate of survival is - "

I placed my hand gingerly over hers. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me. You took me in when I had nothing. You fed me and put clothes on my back and a roof over my head. You don't have to feel that I'm your responsibility, though. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You have already saved my life. All of you have."

"I suppose it would be a lot to ask for, the chance to save your life twice."

"It's not like I'll be gone for good. I'll write as much as I can. And Ralof and I will watch each others' backs. He helped me find my place here. This is something that I just _have_ to do."

"You sound just like he did, before he left for the first time."

"I'm sorry, Gerdur. I can't pretend that I understand what you're going through."

She paused for a moment, and the firelight sparkled in tears forming in her grey eyes. "You're right. You don't."


	5. Chapter 5

The next month crawled by slowly. It was early to rise, much work to be done, and then early to bed for the people of Riverwood. Fishing, woodcutting, harvesting, sewing, hunting, playing. And there wasn't as much drinking as there was the first night there, but dear Talos, there was drinking.

I learned so much in the time that I was there. I learned to make stew without overcooking the carrots, I learned the best way to bait a fishing line, I learned how to darn my own hose for a change. And my feet did, in fact, blister even more. And so did my hands when I worked with the hoe and the woodcutter's ax. But the blister turned to callus.

I learned to tie my hair back without four different hairbands. I learned how to braid it without using a mirror, and then to forget about how it looked. I bit my fingernails short, too. I will admit that I nearly fainted in horror when I got a glimpse of myself in the stream - it'd been weeks since I'd shaped my eyebrows.

But through it all, Ralof, Hadvar, Gerdur, and Hod kept me company. Hod made fishing trips entertaining, as we swapped stories with each other. I told him traditional Cyrodiil fairytales, and he would tell me of Ysgramor, Tiber Septim, and haunted barrows full of forbidden treasure not marked on any map.

Back in Cyrodiil, I tried to avoid most of the ladies' social circles. You know the ones, where noble ladies would convene to sew and gossip for hours on end. Gerdur taught me to sew, sure enough.

One day, I asked her if she could darn my socks for me, and she reluctantly agreed, "With one condition," she said. "You have to do it next time, alright?"

"Sure," I said, "how hard could it be?" and I neglected to watch her work or ask her for tips so I could do it myself. Much to my dismay, I put another hole in them a week later, falling from a tree.

"Please, Gerdur, I promise I'll watch this time!" I begged, waving my ruined socks at her.

She looked at me with a calculating squint of her eyes. "Alright," she said. "Have a seat by the fire, and I'll get my sewing kit." Much too pleased with myself, I took up a rickety wooden chair by the fireplace as Gerdur went into the bedroom behind me. I didn't hear her come back out, and I only realized too late that she had thrown a length of rope around my shins and tied me to the chair.

"What're you doing!?" I screamed. I tried to stood up and tried to hobble away, but she had tied my calves tightly to the legs of the chair and I quickly lost my balance, plopping back down in my seat.

"Teaching you to sew, city girl," she replied, a triumphant smirk on her face. "I'll get my sewing kit for real this time." She returned with two needles and two spools of thread, and two pairs of socks. One was hers and one was mine. She handed me my socks and a needle. "I'll lead by example," she said.

"You left my arms free on purpose. Sneaky."

"Keep your promises, and I won't have to be sneaky," she chided. We spent the next half an hour that way, hostage and master, as I struggled to mend the hole in my sock. After I got the hang of it, Gerdur brought out more things that needed mending: a dishcloth, an apron, and, much to my horror, Ralof's underthings. "That's what you get," she commented before sitting back down.

But the best part of the day was the conversation. One of the reasons I'd never really learned to sew was that I'd thought all girly-girls talked about was love and marriage and fashion. Gerdur was different. She whipped up a conversation about the local geography, which I actually found quite fascinating, which segued into a debate as to the best way to sharpen a dagger, and the last hour or two was devoted to finding interesting new ways to manage the mill's finances.

It was just my luck that Ralof and Hod walked in after a hard day at the mill to find me tied to a chair, fiddling with a pair of men's underwear.

"Gerdur? Kaja?" Hadvar asked. "What's going on?"

"A sewing lesson," Gerdur answered without looking up.

Again, I wasn't sure if it was me or the fire, but it suddenly got a lot hotter.

One of the joys of the village were its two juvenile inhabitants: Frodnar, Hod and Gerdur's son, and Dorthe, Hadvar's cousin. I will admit to shirking my chores for an afternoon or two and sneaking off to play tag with them and Frodnar's dog, Stump. Their youth and good tempers made me smile, but the fact that Frodnar wanted to be just like his Uncle Ralof when he grew up and join the Stormcloaks made my heart heavy.

I also had the pleasure of meeting Hadvar's uncle, Alvor, and his aunt, Sigrid, Dorthe's parents. I learned that Hadvar had joined the legion after his father had died four years ago, to honor his family.

"I know that Ralof thinks the Empire is destroying Skyrim," he said to me, "but it's more complicated than that. Everything is complicated nowadays." Hadvar had to leave soon afterwards, leaving everyone in town oddly quiet in his wake.

I spent my nights at the Sleeping Giant Inn. It was only fair, since Gerdur, Hod, Frodnar, and Stump made for a full house already, and it was more than annoying that Ralof had to sleep in a chair by the fire every night. They just didn't have any extra room.

I got to know Delphine and Orgnar, the innkeepers, quite well. Orgnar seemed a simple man, if he was a little cynical. Delphine was kind, but I never really had a real conversation with the woman. She would disappear for days on end without notice and return in the dead of night, proceeding to make excuses about a sick relative in Whiterun who needed checking up on.

Life seemed to grind to a halt at first. Chores everywhere you looked. I supposed I knew that wood didn't cut itself, food didn't just miraculously appear cooked on plates, and clothes weren't self-mending, but I had never realized the awesome responsibility of a self-sufficient life. Back in Cyrodiil, we used to laugh at how helpless the Nords would be without Imperial goods and Imperial-made tools. Little by little, I learned that we couldn't have been more wrong.

I learned that the best nights of sleep came after the hardest days of work. That he who had the most blisters at the end of the day was the most satisfied with his effort. That an aching back meant security, and broken hands meant prosperity. The dirtier you were at dusk, the more delicious dinner was going to taste. The more you missed your friends, the more grateful you were to see them again.

Every fire I sat by, everything I ate, everything I wore, and every dream I dreamed was a victory. I was not as helpless a people had thought I was. And neither was Skyrim.


	6. Chapter 6

The day came when Ralof received a message. It was a summons to go to Winterhold, the Stormcloaks' chief holding and Jarl Ulfric's home.

Gerdur, Hod, and Ralof talked strategy that night. I listened in as best I could, but there was still so much I didn't know. I left for the inn and bed before they finished their conference. I had taken my hair down, gotten into my nightgown, and had started to write in my new diary.

It wasn't easy to write. I had realized that my old diary had been full of the troubles and complaints of a privileged, spoiled girl and not much else. This time, this book, would be different, I vowed.

A knock came at the door. "Kaja, it's Ralof. Can I come in?"

"Just a moment!" I answered. I hastily closed my diary and ripped the sheets off the bed, wrapping them protectively around my shoulders. I was suddenly all too aware that the nightgown I had on was thin and almost translucent. "Come in," I called.

Ralof stepped in, already dressed in his Stormcloak mail and blue sash. "You are an odd duck," he commented. "At least you're not crying this time," he said, smiling.

I returned the smile and tucked my hair behind my ear nervously. "Sorry," I said. "I was sort of cold."

"I can come back when you're dressed," he offered.

"No, no, that's alright," I assured him. "So how did it go?"

"Well, it's simple, really. It's time to go back to Windhelm. Ulfric has his next step in the war worked out, and he's going to need all the help he can get."

"When are you leaving, then?" I asked.

"Me?" he asked, confused. "I thought we were leaving together."

His words made my heart skip a beat. "You and me, going to Whiterun together?"

"Yes, that's what I said, isn't it?" His eyes fell on my diary and the quill I had been using. The ink was still fresh on it. "Unless that's not what you want."

"No, no, I want to go."

"Kaja," he said, notes of disappointment coming into his voice, "there is no shame in wanting the quiet life. You've been a wonderful addition to the town. Everyone loves you. You have your own room, your own clothes - you even have your diary back. Nobody will think less of you for wanting to build a life instead of taking one."

"No, no, no, I want to go with you!" I protested. "I want to fight for Skyrim!"

"You've proven yourself to my sister and Hod. They'll take good care of you. Who knows, someday you might marry and have a house and family of your own."

_This isn't happening_, I thought. _It's you I want to marry and start a family with, you idiot!_

"You'll be safe here, too. You're pretty much as far into Stormcloak territory as you can get. You won't have to worry about Imperials bothering you here."

"Ralof, you don't understand - "

"Kaja, I know now that I was wrong, taking you up there to that rock, on the first night you were here. I hurt you, didn't I? I didn't mean to frighten you."

I couldn't stand it. "Stop apologizing!" I shouted, dropping my sheet, closing the distance between us in a few swift steps, taking hold of the back of his head, and smashing our lips together.

It only lasted for a second. It wasn't a real kiss. It was too soon. Neither of us closed our eyes, neither of us enjoyed it. I let go and clapped my hands over my mouth, shrinking backwards. I started to tear up.

He stared at me, wide-eyed for only a moment. He was neither happy nor sad, calm nor angry. He was just - and then he left.

Guess what I did then? Yep. I started crying.


	7. Chapter 7

I didn't want to get out of bed the next morning, but my empty stomach eventually got the best of me. Orgnar made me breakfast, looking more sour than usual. Gerdur stopped in for a moment to make sure I was alright. "I'm not entirely sure what happened last night, but the fact that Ralof is leaving alone tells me that you're not yourself."

"I did something awful," I admitted.

"You don't have to tell me know," she said, "but I'm here if you want to talk."

"Thanks," I replied, poking at a baked potato.

"Do you want to see Ralof off?" she asked.

"No, I can't go out there." It was no use. If I wasn't brave enough to face Ralof, then I wasn't brave enough to fight Imperials.

"Are you sure? You know he might not be coming back."

"He wouldn't want to see me."

"Are you so sure?" she asked, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged it off. "I'm certain."

"Alright, then," she said, "but moping never solved anything." She left without another word.

A few minutes later, I heard a horse plod by the inn on the main road. There was only one horse in the village. It was Alvor's horse that Ralof would be taking. I tried to block out the sound, eating my potatoes as noisily as possible. Ironically, if I hadn't been so occupied with pitying myself, I'd have heard the trouble a lot sooner.

Not one horse, but a whole unit came trotting down the main road. I didn't notice until people started shouting in what sounded like terror and the clang of metal rang through the air. I spat out what was in my mouth and rushed to the door, flinging it open. I choked.

At least thirty legionnaires were on the main road, their short swords gleaming in the morning sun. I could see Hod and Ralof and Alvor trying to fight them off, or at least keep them from damaging the buildings. Sven, Lucan, and Faendal joined in, too. But it was going badly.

Alvor was already down. Sven was trying to shoot the Imperials from the porch of his house, but he was missing badly and almost hit Lucan in the elbow. Faendal was doing his best to aim a weak fireball spell at the battle, but as soon as he realized that it was just as likely to set one of the houses on fire, he stopped and joined in with his fists. Hod and Ralof were fighting with axes, back-to-back, in the middle of the fray.

"Orgnar! Sword!" I shouted, sticking out my right hand. Orgnar might have been quiet, but he wasn't stupid. He pulled a rusty mace out from under the bar's counter and tossed it to me. I snatched it out of the air. I undid the laces on the back of my skirt and let it fall to the floor. No use tripping over it in battle.

I saw my first target: An Imperial on the edge of the group. He was short. I wound up to hit him on the head. But the mace was heavier than I expected and I fell short. It wasn't so much a _blow_ to the head as I let the mace fall and prayed to Talos that it landed somewhere in his general area. He turned around.

I don't know what I was expecting. I mean, in all the fantasies I'd ever had about Imperials, they had all been faceless. Uniform. They hadn't been people, they'd been things. But this was different - it was just a man. A young man. For a moment, I hesitated. My grip on my weapon loosened, and I took a step back.

But then he raised his sword and advanced towards me. My mind raced: The last time a sword had been raised against me, I had nearly been executed. That thought, that trigger, made my arms grow strong. I grabbed the mace with both hands.

Someone had flipped a switch inside me. I didn't even really will myself to strike again, it just happened. And yes, it was a _strike._ I moved quickly, regardless of the cost to my strength or stamina, and _slammed_ the mace through his helm, deep into his skull. I didn't take a second look at him.

The next one didn't see me coming. I shattered his collarbone and he crumpled. I kept light on my feet, running from Imperial to Imperial. The next one blocked me with the flat of his blade, and I staggered backwards. He made to strike, and I instinctively held up a hand to protect myself, blinking furiously.

Flames burst from my palm and fingertips, sending him reeling, his clothes burning. He dropped his sword and pelted towards the river, screaming.

"Kaja!" I heard Ralof shout. "Kaja, get out of here!" In turning to shout to me, he had ignored the enemy coming up behind him.

"Stop it!" I yelled, darting forwards, and smacking into the legionnaire with my shoulder. He stumbled, and Ralof, realizing what had happened, finished him off with a blow from his war ax.

"Not bad," he said breathlessly, taking just enough time to smile at me. How could I have been so stupid to think that he would be mad at me? I mean, I had been an idiot, but this was Ralof. He understood this kind of thing. He was kind.

I would have paid his weight in gold to see him smile. To think that I had almost thrown that all away.

We got through the next five together. I knocked them down, and he finished the job. Alvor was back up - it looked like he had taken a blow to the head - and was swatting legionnaires down like flies with his huge hammer. Sven had decided to forget the bow, and instead to dart between dueling couples and surreptitiously stick arrows in the Imperials' necks. It greatly improved his accuracy.

Lucan was doing a sort of nervous jig around the makeshift battlefield with a cast-iron pot clutched firmly in his shaking hands. He took the liberty of smacking the heads of legionnaires who had been down but were starting to come to. Hod was cutting down Imperials like he was splitting lumber at the mill. Of course, the ax he was using was a lot bigger, and, well, lumber didn't spray nearly that much blood when you cut into it.

Faendal had managed to focus his energy and narrow the width of his fireball spell, and now that the cluster of Imperials was thinner, he was having an easier time picking them out individually and lighting them each on fire.

During the fight, I couldn't think of anything. I saw things. I did things. My mind was blank. But after Ralof had downed the last Imperial and we both whipped around, ready for the next one, only to find that there were no more, I came to my senses.

"Is everyone okay?" I asked, looking over my friends. Alvor was bleeding from a wound on his brow and Lucan had a bloody nose, but other than that, everyone seemed fine. Shaken, but fine.

Ralof grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "What do you think you were doing, Kaja?" he asked. I could still hear the panic left over from the fight in his voice. "You could have been killed!"

I swatted him away. "So could you!" I shouted. "And don't tell me what to do! A thank-you would have been fine."

Ralof sighed and slumped his shoulders. "It's my fault they were here in the first place. They came to find me."

"I thought you said they wouldn't come after us. You said they'd be too busy at Helgen to worry about who got away - "

"But it's been a month. Things are in motion again." He looked at Alvor. "Friends, this is my fault. I should have left sooner. I put you all in danger."

"If we didn't want you here we would have thrown you out," Hod said. "You're our family, Ralof. This is what families do."

Sven nodded. "If they come after one of us, they come after the whole town."

I looked Ralof straight in the eye. He seemed rueful. "It's not your fault," I reassured him. "You didn't do anything wrong." He closed his eyes and looked away. My eyes followed the trail of the braid in his hair, and down to the collar of his tunic.

Something came into focus over Ralof's shoulder. It was an Imperial. It was the one that had run to the river to put himself out - he had a bow trained at Ralof's head -

"Move!" I shouted, and I threw all my weight against Ralof, pushing him to the ground. I heard the arrow whizz by my head, and the solid _thud_ as it buried itself in the front porch of the Riverwood Trader.

Hod and Alvor took off after the legionnaire at once. Lucan looked like he was going to faint. "What was that?" Ralof asked, shaking his head.

"One got away," I explained. I extended a hand down to him. "Need a lift?"

I can only imagine what I looked like at that moment, on that day. I was the spoiled city girl who had learned to be a Nord. I stood there in my underthings, blood my only makeup, a heavy mace in one rough hand, the other extended to my dearest friend.

Ralof took my hand without hesitation. His grip wasn't light and dainty, as if he were trying to comfort me, but it wasn't brusque and challenging, as if he were going to offer me a business proposal. It was warm, and just tight enough.

"Kaja, let me explain myself," he said. "I was short with you last night, before we, uh, I, uh, before I left," he stumbled."Look, I didn't mean to make it sound like I don't want you with me. I do. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"You don't have to explain anything," I said. "Last night was just the last spoiled city-girl fantasy that I needed to get out of my head."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, pretending to be offended. "You mean you don't really want me?"

"No, last night I realized that I do. But love isn't something that I'm entitled to. It's like - well, back in Cyrodiil, everything was provided for me. Food, clothes, firewood, everything. I've learned not to expect those things to come free anymore. I've even learned to get some of those things for myself.

"What I'm trying to say is, I was wrong to want your love without giving you anything in return. And I'm sorry. I want to earn love on my own, when the time is right."

"You're starting to sound like a true Nord," he said, a warm, almost dreamy light reaching his face. "That's what this life is about, Kaja. You've proven yourself to the villagers. And now you've proven yourself to me. Not only with your blade, but with your heart. The Stormcloaks would be lucky to have a woman like you."

"You mean -?" Ralof beamed at me, nodding almost giddily. It was all I could do to keep myself from squealing with delight. But then I realized that squealing was girlish, and not Nordic whatsoever. So I slammed my fist against my chest and shouted out a brief "Yea!"

"Easy, little sister!" Ralof joked. "Don't hurt yourself!"

"I'd have to really _try_ to hurt myself," I boasted, flexing my arms.

Ralof laughed aloud. "Ulfric will love meeting you," he said. "He values spirit and loyalty, both of which you have in spades, little sister."

Faendal interrupted, crossing his arms before his chest. "I've heard that Ulfric Stormcloak is a well-read man," he said, "and that his court mage is one of the most powerful in Skyrim. Maybe he can help you understand your newfound powers."

"What powers?" Ralof asked. "Kaja, is there something you haven't told us?"

It actually took me a moment to realize what they were talking about. "Oh, son of a skeever!" I cussed. "The fireball spell! I saw Faendal do it and I just - copied it! How did you know?"

Faendal gave me a look that was half-pitying, half-patronizing. "I know a novice when I see one."

"Coming from a guy who can't aim his spells properly," I snorted.

Faendal made to move towards me, but Ralof put a hand on his shoulder, which seemed to bring the elf to his senses. "Yes, perhaps Jarl Ulfric will be able to shed some light on this," he said. "Faendal is right, Kaja. Ulfric knows a lot of unusual things about magic and ancient legends. And you wouldn't be the first person with unexpected power to ask him for guidance."

I looked down at my own hands. "I hope it doesn't happen again by accident," I mumbled.

"It won't," Ralof said.

"How do you know?"

"I trust you, little sister."


	8. Chapter 8

**Since you were all so good yesterday and didn't complain when I didn't post a chapter, I'll give you the rest of the story today. Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and criticism, and all the support. Hearing from you always makes my day! **

**With that said, please enjoy the rest of the story.**

* * *

"He called me 'little sister,'" I muttered under my breath, as I stuffed all physical evidence of my meager existence into a rucksack. It was everything I had ever wanted. I had his love. I had the chance to prove myself to the world, to give the Empire hell.

But was it enough?

Gerdur came into my room at the Sleeping Giant carrying a few odds and ends that I had left at the house. She handed me the first pair of socks I had ever darned. "So you remember your lessons," she said. Then she presented me with a tiny piece of kindling wood. "So you always stay warm." She pressed a piece of soft leather into my hands. I turned it over, to find that it was branded with the crest of Riverwood. "So you can find your way home."

I hugged her tightly. "You're the best sister a girl could ever hope for," I said.

"Please, please, please, come home safely," she said, her voice breaking only momentarily. "The whole world is open to you now, Kaja. Don't let it break you."

"I won't," I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. We broke apart. I stuck my hand into my pack and rummaged around for a moment. When I found it, I pulled out my new diary, and handed it to her. "Proof that I'll be coming back someday."

Gerdur's eyes were starting to turn red and puff up. "You know, someone once told me that there's nothing better to cure puffy eyes than an evening stroll." Gerdur laughed in spite of herself, before it turned into a hiccup.

"You and he will do so well together," she said.

She carried my rucksack to the main road for me and loaded it on Alvor's horse. Hod and Alvor were taking turns solemnly shaking Ralof's hand and giving him pieces of manly advice.

I tied the rusty mace to my belt and crammed the traditional Stormcloak hide helmet on, and then readjusted the blue sash covering the chain mail shirt. I hopped up on the horse, and realized with a pang that it would be my first time _not_ riding sidesaddle, and wearing breeches, to boot. Ralof mounted in front of me.

"Your stupid hair is in my face," I said, poking him in the shoulder.

"Didn't you tell me just last week that you'd never learned to ride straight?"

"Well - "

"I'd better drive for now," he said. "At least until we get to the plains so you can learn."

"Alright," I pouted.

"And you're calling your hair stupid, too. It's almost the same as mine."

Alvor placed a hand on the horse's neck. "This is Samia," he said. "And I can't say that I condone what you're doing, but she'll get you to Winterhold safely."

"Thank you, my friend," Ralof said, saluting the old man. "If Hadvar gets back before me, tell him I said hello." Alvor nodded and turned away.

"No, uncle Ralof, don't go!" Frodnar cried. Gerdur was on the porch of her house, holding her son by the shoulders. Stump sat next to his master and howled dolefully.

"I have to," Ralof said. "But don't worry, I'll send you lots of presents from Jarl Ulfric."

"Take care of Aunt Kaja!" Frodnar shouted.

"I will!" Ralof promised.

I waved awkwardly at everyone. The sendoff I had had in the Imperial City hadn't been nearly this heartfelt. Proving that the best, sweetest goodbyes weren't the ones that you had catered and hired bands for. They were the ones you forged yourself.

Ralof spurred Samia on, and she trotted North out of the village. The sun was already setting. The gates of Riverwood closed behind us, and Ralof leaned into Samia, urging her onwards.

"Is this what you wanted, Kaja?" he asked over his shoulder.

"I finally have something to fight for," I said loudly, straining to be heard over Samia's hoofbeats. "And we have our work cut out for us, don't we? Imperials everywhere we go, bandits on the roads, dragons... What more could a girl want?"


	9. Chapter 9

We made camp on the side of the road that night. Ralof got a small fire started for us to huddle around. When it had died down a bit, I loaded some potatoes and salmon onto the coals. We had a good time eating it, too.

We were both on edge. It was dangerous, stopping at a random spot in the woods. We could be attacked by wolves, or Imperials, or trolls, or one of a thousand other creatures that haunted the wilds of Skyrim.

But the way we talked, the way we laughed - I was completely at ease with him. I didn't feel the hot embarrassment flood to my cheeks like I usually did. I didn't know if it was because I wasn't planning anything, or because I wasn't expecting anything, or if it was we had finally made clear where we were. "Sister," he had called me. Did that mean that there was no room to grow? Did that mean that there was no spark between us?

Before we went to sleep that night, we took turns stepping out of the dim firelight to relieve ourselves. Ralof went first, and when it was my turn, I went a little farther than he had. It wasn't necessarily because of my modesty, it was just because I liked to have a little privacy before bedtime.

I found an outcropping of rock to sit on after I had done my business. I let my feet dangle off the edge of the rock, and shook my head so my hair fluffed out around me. Clouds had rolled in just about sundown, so the night was dark and flat. I heard the chirping of crickets unseen all around me, and the gentle hoot of an owl in its tree. I closed my eyes. I could hear the wind in the trees, the gentle creak of each branch, the sweet whistle of tall grass growing defiantly on rocky hills.

The air was different away from Riverwood, away from the fire and Samia and Ralof. It was so dry, stinging my lips and nostrils. There was no scent of mud, or wet roof thatch, or manure, or wood smoke. There was no other person's scent there. I guess I'd been near Ralof so often that I'd learned not to notice how he smelled anymore. I wondered if that was a good thing.

The wind picked up and tossed my hair, and it roared through the pines and made the world moan. I opened my eyes, and I was blinded, but only for a moment. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the Northern Lights dazzled above me. They sprawled across the heavens, this time red and orange and white.

I looked down at the valley below me, following the road with my eyes. I knew it led to a thousand other small towns that I had never seen before, and that eventually the towns gave way to rolling plains and enormous holds and their palaces. And the people in the palaces, and in the towns, and everywhere in between could see the lights, too.

They were a blanket, a cloak, that covered all of Skyrim. And I promised myself, in my heart of hearts, that I would never let _anyone _take that away from me.

I had my life, I had my love, I had my land. And that was plenty.


End file.
